


Feeding the Cycle

by Clair de Lune (clair_de_lune)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Comeplay, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Pre-Series, Sibling Incest, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clair_de_lune/pseuds/Clair%20de%20Lune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looked like someone who’d got his cookie stolen. (Pre-series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeding the Cycle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxriverinmate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxriverinmate/gifts).



> Prompt by Foxriverinmate: Michael feels rejected and Lincoln comforts him the only way he knows how.

He looked like someone who’d got his cookie stolen.

That was what Lincoln told him when he dropped his bag and sat at the kitchen table, shoulders slumped and head hanging low.

“Lauren has broken up with me”.

Lincoln patted his shoulder and sympathized minimally, “That sucks.”

Then, because he was an asshole, but a nice one, he started cooking chicken soup, burgers and mashed potatoes for dinner. Michael squinted suspiciously at him.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s called food. You know, you’re supposed to eat it about three times a day?”

It wasn’t just food. It was the food Linc used to fix him when he was a kid and he was feeling like crap. Like today, except that he wasn’t a kid anymore. Sure, he’d fled his dorm at college for the weekend after talking with Lauren – that was, after Lauren’s monologue – but still not a kid anymore.

“Go grab a shower before we eat. You look like hell and I’m not sure you smell better.”

Michael considered protesting and decided against it. Yes, he was a grown-up and his brother was still telling him what to do. But it was nice to have someone who cared, especially if this someone was Lincoln, especially if Lincoln cared instead of... well, not caring and going out and getting high with his less than commendable friends.

Shower, and dinner and crashing in front of the TV – Lincoln even let him pick the program. It was telling heaps about how miserable Michael must have looked. All the nice big brother attitude, and then, an arm wrapping around his shoulders, a hand casually patting his arm. Michael glanced at said hand as if it had a mind of its own.

It wasn’t nearly as innocent as it seemed and should have been. Not given how it stroked his upper arm, not given what the two of them used to do together and to each other.

The memory of what they used to do sent a wave of heat to his crotch. Reflex. Stupid Pavlovian reaction.

“Don’t start something you won’t finish, Linc,” he warned.

Lincoln didn’t reply right away. He just kept stroking his arm, as though weighing his options.

“Who said I wouldn’t finish it?”

The heat spread in Michael’s crotch and up his belly. He closed his eyes and let the possibility – the fantasy – play in his mind. They had decided to put an end to that thing long ago; _Lincoln_ had decided, though Michael couldn’t reproach him for that. It wasn’t fair of Lincoln to play with him that way, especially tonight. Chastising himself, he carried on the daydream a few more seconds, imagining and almost feeling how nice Lincoln would feel against him.

By the time he opened his eyes again, Lincoln was nuzzling his jaw and his hand had slipped from Michael’s arm to his hip. Michael swallowed back the small moan of approval that was threatening to break out of his throat. Instead, just to try and test Lincoln, he asked, “So yet another girlfriend dumps me and you offer me a pity fuck?”

“You’re a little shit,” Lincoln shot back good-naturedly. “Don’t play hard to get. We both know I could have you on your back and begging just like that if I wanted to.” He tilted his head. “Maybe I’m going to.”

There was hurt in Lincoln’s tone and eyes, a hurt suggesting that he was being serious. Michael smiled faintly, embarrassed to have misread him yet still cautious about his intentions.

“That’s the worst pity fuck offer ever,” he tried to joke.

Then he stopped acting smartass-y because Lincoln was kissing him; his thigh pressing dangerously close to Michael’s groin, his right hand palming the back of Michael’s head. His lips were warm and soft, brushing over Michael’s tenderly and waiting until he was panting to deepen the kiss. Lincoln tipped his head back, withdrawing slightly from the kiss – because he was a taunting bastard who enjoyed seeing Michael desperate – and Michael lurched forward, chasing after him.

Lincoln hadn’t kissed him like that in years. Delicate and passionate, playful, making Michael feel as though he was about to come right here, right now, in his pants like a kid high on hormones. It was the kind of kiss Lincoln was giving him when _it_ had started and Michael was too young for it with anyone – even more so with his brother – but wouldn’t listen to any argument Lincoln might have.

This time, he did moan, almost whimpered, when Lincoln cupped him gently through his jeans.

“See? You’re already begging.”

Yes. Whatever. It wasn’t like his reaction to Lincoln’s touches deserved a newsflash. He melted into the embrace and put his hand over his brother’s to keep his fingers where they were, to force them a tad tighter around him.

It had been too long. Months, years. Since he left for college. Lincoln had used his leaving to stop this aspect of their relationship, telling him for the umpteenth time that it was wrong and damaging, and he would meet someone nice in college and...

It had been too long. For Lincoln too, it seemed, if the way he was kissing and touching him, fumbling with his belt and opening his fly was anything to go by.

“Come on,” Lincoln told him, trying to drag him up.

Michael shook his head and tightened his hold around Lincoln. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not with Lincoln’s body heat seeping into him and feeding needs and fires that he’d kept dormant for the price of so many efforts.

Lincoln kissed him again, a bit dirtier but still so gently that Michael wanted to cry.

“I don’t want to stop, Mike, just wanna go to bed. I’m not making this a quickie on the couch.”

The words cut their way through the haze surrounding him. He let Lincoln help him to his feet and undress both of them while walking him towards the bedroom. Their clothes drew a haphazard line between the battered sofa and the bed.

_Not a quickie. Bed. God, yes._

He loved Lincoln’s bed. The rest of the apartment was crappy although comfortable enough, but the bed was dreamy. Not just because it was Lincoln’s bed with all what it implied, but also because it was huge, welcoming and warm. They could easily fit together in it and still have plenty of room to move and laze and...

Lincoln laid him down in the middle of the mattress, and Michael immediately tried to sit up and reach for him. He wanted to touch him, taste him, feel him. The need throbbed between his temples and in the pit of his stomach, made his mouth water and his hands shake. His fingers barely brushed the tip of Lincoln’s cock before Linc was pushing him back onto the pillows.

“I want to suck you,” Michael blurted out, falling back and feeling like the prize had just been put out of his range.

“I only mentioned the begging, not the dirty talk. You already so far gone?” Lincoln joked.

“You’re an asshole.”

“We have all night. Fuck, we have all weekend. I promise we won’t stop until you can hardly move anymore. Going to fuck you senseless, Mikey. But for now, let me... just let me take care of you.” Another so-soft kiss. Michael wondered if Lincoln was aware that the gentler he made those kisses, the dirtier they felt. “Be good. Gonna make it worth your while, ‘kay?”

Michael nodded and lifted his arms above his head, wrapping his fingers around the bars of the headboard to brace himself. It didn’t do any good. His hips jumped off the bed at the first squeeze at the base of his cock. Too much. Or not enough. He felt like he was burning from head to toe, and he wasn’t even broaching the issue of what was going on in his belly or how much he needed to feel Lincoln in his mouth or in his ass; preferably both, by the way, one after another.

Shit. He was totally gone. This wasn’t going to end well for his dignity.

“You all right?”

“Yes. No.” He thrust tentatively into Lincoln’s fist. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can... I think...”

“Stop thinking.”

“You really are an asshole. I think we should do it now because otherwise, I’m going to lose it.”

“We should ‘do it’?” Despite the warning, Lincoln was still stroking him. He pushed his luck further by sliding down and licking the underside of Michael’s erection. Somehow, Michael managed not to come all over his face, an achievement he felt rather proud about. “What are you, fifteen?”

Michael looked daggers at him.

“You’d better fuck me right now because if you don’t, I’m going to sit on your cock and ride you whether you like it or not. Is that grown-up language enough for you?”

“Gosh, you have a potty mouth. Such pretty lips uttering such nasty words.” He moved up Michael’s body until he was face to face with him. “I’m not going to fuck you for now. We’re going to do this a bit differently.”

What-fucking-ever as long as he got off.

Lincoln straddled him, his heat and closeness a tease in themselves; Michael arched up to rub his cock against Lincoln’s and between his buttocks, back and forth, back and forth, until Linc grinned and ground back into him. So good. How he could have done without this for so long was a mystery. No wonder he was about to fall apart.

On one of his upstrokes, Lincoln expertly guided him into his ass and sank down onto him. Michael froze on the spot. His mouth opened wide, inarticulate sounds escaping him as searing heat and tightness oh so slowly sheathed his cock. Lincoln pinned his hands above his head when he tried to touch him, and he held him as still as possible, only allowing his hips to rock up and down frantically.

“Fuck,” Lincoln breathed out, his face pinched in a pain-pleasured wince. “Haven’t done this since... You know since when, don’t you?” Michael thrust up roughly at the admittance, unable to stop himself. He knew, yes. He’d always been the only one who got to have Lincoln this way. “I take it it feels good?”

Beyond words.

“Not too bad.”

He complied as best as he could when Lincoln told him not to move and – Lincoln had got this right earlier – he started to beg. Desperately, pitifully. Between the enforced passivity and the steady friction, he had no chance. Even less so when Lincoln leaned down to kiss him and whispered against his mouth.

“You want to come now, Mike?” Linc clenched hard around him. “You sure? ‘Cause let me tell you, whether you come or not, I’m going to fuck that pretty ass of yours.”

Michael forced his eyes open and looked down to where Lincoln’s cock was bobbing freely; it was long and twitching, thicker than Michael could ever remember it, with pearls of clear fluid forming at the tip and smearing Michael’s chest. He grinned. Despite all his self-control and bravado, Lincoln was as affected and desperate as him.

It only took him another kiss and about thirty seconds to fill Lincoln with come. Maybe he would regret it when Lincoln did fuck him in a couple of minutes, over-sensitivity or not, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He blacked out.

When he started to feel again, to hear and see again, Lincoln was kneeling between his splayed legs. He waited to be sure he had Michael’s full attention and bowed down to lick the inside of his thigh. Michael shamelessly let his knees fall further apart in invitation.

“I’ve missed you,” Lincoln confessed sotto-voce. The moist puffs of his breathing made Michael shiver. His tongue extended and swept between Michael’s buttocks before snaking up and down his half-hard shaft. He was showing more mercy than he’d advertised, waiting for Michael to be ready again, only offering him a foretaste of what was going to happen by breaching him with a thumb slick with saliva and lube.

Michael writhed around that thumb. He appreciated what Lincoln was trying to do here, really, but that wasn’t what he’d been promised, and what he hoped for.

“Please, Linc...”

He wanted Lincoln inside him. Now. He wanted to be taken, fucked, owned, and used, and Lincoln doing it all over again, as many times, as often Lincoln might fancy it. He wanted to feel as though Lincoln and he had never stopped sleeping together. Who cared if the pleasure was bordering on pain as long as he got that?

“You’re killing me,” Lincoln grumbled.

In less than five minutes, Michael was on his back and begging, just as Lincoln had envisioned it earlier, and his body stretched in ways he had forgotten about to welcome and accommodate Linc. What Lincoln never mentioned but Michael _had_ foreseen was the litany of groans and comments pouring from Lincoln about Michael being so hot, and tight, and willing to take everything Lincoln had in store for him. With a devious smile, he reached around and dipped two fingers into Lincoln’s ass, in the tacky mess he’d left there.

Lincoln bucked and rammed harder into him in retaliation. That was the kind of backlash that Michael was happy to endure, to provoke even.

He thrust his fingers, again and again, until Linc shed any thread of restraint.

One of them shouted. Michael couldn’t have told which one, but he was pretty sure that the nice old lady on the fifth would worry again that one of them was trying to murder the other one. Lincoln pretended it was Michael who went so vocal – and the shout killed Lincoln’s eardrum, by the way – but it wasn’t like Lincoln could be trusted about this kind of stuff.

Linc kissed him wet and sloppy, his tongue prodding deep. All the relative innocence of before had been forgotten. He kept throwing it overboard by bringing Michael’s fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean, pink tongue licking off the last traces of creamy semen.

“Oh, God...” Michael goggled at him, his upper lip curled in a mixture of disgust and arousal.

His very spent cock managed to jerk against his stomach at the sight of Lincoln’s satisfied expression; and his eyes rolled at Lincoln’s short and obscene explanation: “Dessert, baby...”

“You’re a pig,” Michael sighed without trying to back away from the tongue bath.

Lincoln smirked and cuddled him.

—

“What’s the problem with you and these girls, Michael? It’s not like Lauren is the first to... you know.”

Lincoln’s voice was low and sleepy in his ear. They weren’t totally asleep but not really awake either, lounging in the warmth of the bed under a pile of blankets, wrapped up in each other. If the sex earlier hadn’t been so incredible, Michael could almost have been happy with that feeling of intimacy alone.

“Mm?” Linc insisted. A touch of humor slipped into his tone. “You’re hot and you’re a great lay. And I know what I’m talking about, I have first-hand experience of it.”

Maybe that was the issue; that _was_ the issue. Michael bit his tongue to avoid saying it aloud.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s their only criteria,” he replied instead. “It wasn’t Lauren’s, obviously.”

“You overestimate them, or maybe you underestimate yourself, sweet pea. Hot, great lay, smart, pretty. Who could ask for more?”

Michael was grateful for the half-darkness and the mess of pillows that hid his blushing. Lincoln was teasing, but he meant all of it nonetheless. He pondered for a few instants whether he was willing to share the answer with Lincoln. Then, he lost track of his thoughts because Linc’s hand wandered down his stomach and touched him lazily, aimlessly. Linc didn’t intend to start anything; he just wanted to feel him. Michael leaned into the caress and the words poured out of his mouth of their own volition.

“They... Well, Lauren anyway said that I’m emotionally unavailable.”

Lincoln rolled Michael’s balls in the palm of his hand. Michael shifted to give him better access, wondering what was the point of asking him questions if at the same time, he was petting him in a way that stole his ability to think and talk.

“Does that even mean something?” Lincoln murmured.

He was half-hard against the small of Michael’s back. Smooth and warm and half-hard, straining against him. Despite his soreness, Michael pushed back into him, coaxing his brother’s cock into the crease of his butt. Lincoln groaned and licked the nape of his neck. This was quickly becoming less lazy and aimless.

 _That means that I’d rather spend the night with you than with any of them, no matter how smart, hot and pretty_ they _may be._

He turned around in the circle of Lincoln’s arms until he was facing him. His thumb traced the outlines of Linc’s face, the arch of the eyebrows, the strong line of the cheekbone, the jaw Michael liked to kiss so much, the firm lips. The lips parted and Lincoln drew his thumb into his mouth. Lincoln seemed to be on a sucking binge, tonight. Not that Michael minded.

“That means that...”

Michael didn’t finish his sentence. It wasn’t a true question or, more accurately, it wasn’t really the question Linc was asking. The real question was to know whether Michael could walk away from it, whether _Lincoln_ could.

It looked like they’d had their answer tonight.

He removed his thumb from Lincoln’s mouth and kissed him in the protective manner Lincoln sometimes used with him but was never reciprocal because it just wasn’t meant to be that way. It confused the hell out of Linc, and Michael did it again because confused Lincoln was both cute and damn hot.

“That means that I’m going to suck you off and make you come in my mouth. Sounds okay to you?”

For a few long seconds, Lincoln’s hand rested, heavy and authoritative, on the back of his head. Michael licked his lips. Obligingly, Lincoln lifted the blankets for him to slide under.

END

**\--Feedback and kudos are always greatly appreciated :)**


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